Two to Tangle. Leslie Kelly
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Trent watched her, noting the pronounced curviness of her body in the skimpy coal-black bikini she wore. “Nice,” he murmured, liking the line of her hips flaring below a small waist, and the smooth, tanned legs and back. Her thick, curly mop of light-brown hair was clasped loosely at the nape of her neck and fell to just below her shoulders.
He suddenly wondered what color her eyes were. And whether, as she stared at the churning ocean and the heavy gray skies, she was smiling.
“You’d better come in before the storm gets worse,” someone called. Trent glanced over to see a pool boy stacking chairs under a covered awning. He’d obviously been speaking to the woman, but she paid no attention. Instead, as Trent watched, she spread her arms out to her sides, dropped her head back, and lifted her face to the sky.
Trent watched, fascinated, wondering who she was, and, more important, why he found her so appealing when he had never even seen her face.
Then she turned, slowly, as if loathe to gather her things and go inside. From the other side of the pool, she noticed him. Her eyes met his. And she smiled the most gloriously joyful smile he’d ever seen in his life.
2
CHLOE DIDN’T KNOW HOW, didn’t know why, but as she stared toward the other side of the pool, she knew she’d found her pagan again. Troy stood shirtless, wearing only tight, dusty jeans, watching her from a covered area near a closed outdoor bar. His stare was intensely curious, and she almost reached out a hand, crazily wanting to invite him to dance with her in the rain.
However, when another sharp bolt of lightning ripped the sky, followed almost immediately by a loud crack of thunder, she decided that wasn’t such a great idea. As she bent to gather her things, she knew without looking that he’d come over to help. The storm wouldn’t intimidate him at all.
Then he was there, retrieving her book, lotion and sunglasses, and shoving them into her beach bag. Chloe didn’t even have time to yank on her beach cover-up before Troy grabbed her by the arm and tried to tug her toward the building.
“Next to a pool isn’t the best place to be during a thunderstorm,” he said, his voice raised over the wind that had whipped up into a frenzy in the past few moments.
Chloe nodded agreement, stopping only to grab her sandals before dashing with him toward the hotel entrance. She was not a bit surprised to see the laughter on his lips as they burst into the building just as the rain turned torrential.
“We made it in the nick of time.” He shook his head hard, sending droplets of water from his hair against her already wet face, throat and chest. The contact was innocent, yet somehow intimate.
As he pushed back his thick, damp hair, Chloe caught a glimpse of something gold on his earlobe and realized for the first time that he wore a small pierced earring. She would never in a million years have guessed such a thing about Troy Langtree—she’d certainly never seen him wear it at work! Now, all she could think was how interesting it might be to nibble the bit of flesh beneath the gold stud. To tug on it with her teeth. To touch it with her tongue.
She shuddered.
“You okay?”
She nodded, still panting for breath. They both leaned against the papered wall of the hotel hallway inside the glass door. “I’m fine, thanks,” Chloe finally managed to say. “I like storms. If it weren’t for the lightning, I’d love to go down to the beach right now.”
He nodded. “Feeling the strong, salty wind.”
“Hearing the pounding surf.”
“Getting the ocean taste in your mouth and feeling certain you’ve never breathed richer air.”
“Sounds heavenly,” she said with a sigh.
“Most people would think we’re crazy.” Then he laughed at himself. “But I have been called worse. How about a rain check? When there’s no lightning.”
“I’d like that.”
As her ragged breathing returned to normal, Chloe paused to glance at him, and found herself face to collarbone with his amazing male chest. All bare. All flat and tanned and toned. He was broad in the shoulders, powerful across the chest, narrow and lean at the waist. Chloe caught her bottom lip between her teeth as she let her gaze travel lower, to the swirl of dark, curling hair on his muscled belly, until it disappeared into the waistband of his tight, wet jeans.
Exactly how long has it been since I’ve had sex?
She finally shook her head to clear her mind of all the erotic images invading it. Struggling for nonchalance, she risked one more glance at his bare chest. “Lose your shirt?”
He obviously noticed her staring. He smiled, a devastating, flirtatious smile she’d never once beheld on Troy Langtree’s lips. Her heart skipped a few more beats, as much from his smile as from the intensity in those emerald-green eyes of his.
“Too hot outside. Of course, you’re not exactly dressed either.”
She followed his warm stare and glanced down at her body. Her bikini top, which had seemed almost modest in comparison to some she’d seen out by the pool earlier, now seemed too tight. The curves of her breasts pushed high above the fabric, rising and falling as she took deeper breaths. Her skin puckered with gooseflesh in the air-conditioned hallway. There was no mistaking the tightness of her nipples, right below the edge of her top.
Returning her attention to him, she saw Troy’s much-too-kissable lips part and his eyes narrow as he continued to study her. Chloe nearly shuddered. “I didn’t have a chance to put on my cover-up,” she whispered.
He slowly shook his head. “Don’t bother on my account.”
She should. She knew she should. She was holding the darn thing in her fingertips; it would be easy enough to slip it on over her nearly naked, cold and damp body.
But Chloe couldn’t move. Couldn’t lift her hand. Couldn’t keep a single coherent thought in her head. Troy’s gaze moved higher, zeroing in on her face—her lips. He’s going to kiss me.
“At the risk of sounding like a jerk with a pickup line, I have to tell you something. You have a great smile.”
Smile? Yeah, like the moronic one she wore right now at the mental image of him dragging her into his arms and pressing that amazing mouth onto hers. Just the thought of feeling this man’s arms around her, his hands on her waist, his tongue dancing with her own, and she went weak-legged and brainless.
“Thank you,” she murmured. Then she tried to make a joke, tried to lighten the heavy atmosphere by referring to his normally reserved attitude. “So do you. Though, I certainly have never seen very much of it.”
A hotel employee, the one who’d been stacking lounge chairs before the storm, walked toward them in the long, silent corridor.